A Snow Angel
by Msynergy
Summary: A beauty, a beast, and snow. What could possibly go wrong? Rumbelle. Simply fluff, no more, no less.


_A Snow Angel_

Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters/show.

Author's Note: Blatantly borrowed scene from Disney, OUAT style. Unabashed fluff. I'm sure others have written something similar, but this is my try at it. Enjoy!

She loved snow because her mother had loved snow.

Before the wars, before her illness, before everything, her mother had taught her how to make her very first snowball, how to make snowmen and snow angels. Her father's guards had learned to be extra vigilant during the winter months thereafter. It was perfect.

Walking along the snow covered grounds of her new home; all those memories come rushing forward, the dark castle and its surroundings covered by several inches of a fresh white blanket after a swift snowstorm.

It was a rarity to find herself outside the castle at all, but the "Dark One" had somehow found it himself to give way to her longing looks towards the covered windows as she dusted his collection. It was with a scoff, a dismissive wave of his hand, and mutterings about not being responsible should she catch her death, but she had never been more thankful for his cavalier methods as master of the house until then. She might have even hugged him if she'd dared, but even that thought was left behind in her excitement to get outside.

And so she stood, wearing a heavy winter cloak and mittens which had mysteriously appeared in her room when she'd gone in search of something warm to wear, her nose and cheeks pink, her breath freezing with every exhale, and she'd never been happier.

In a fit of said happiness she eagerly plopped down into the fresh snow, her arms and legs moving to create a snow angel she remembered so vividly from childhood. But sitting up once she was finished, she remembered the main problem with their creation. A perfect snow angel was dependent on help from another to raise the maker into a standing position, otherwise the handprints and scuff marks left behind in standing alone marred its beauty.

And then, as if he'd heard her wish, a glinting, dark nailed hand suddenly appeared in her vision.

She jumped at first, still not quite used to his magical abilities, but smiled up at his seemingly disinterested face nonetheless. Grabbing the offered hand he easily lifted her up, and giving her thanks she watched him carefully, but his expression remained unimpressed, revealing nothing else as he surveyed her work.

"This is what you wished to venture out for?" he asked, his face now finally way to disbelief and annoyance. But she would not be swayed by his foul mood.

"Yes! My mother taught me when I was little. Snow angels, she called them."

"I was not aware that 'snow angels' were a requirement of a princess' education."

Taking one last look at her masterpiece, she stepped away, trying to take in all the other wonders the landscape had to offer, before looking back and replying with a mischievous grin, "You could say the same of weaponry and tactics, but that didn't stop me from learning with my father's men."

He only arched one eyebrow in response, making her laugh. Nothing could dampen her mood on such a fine day. Wrapping her cloak closer to herself as a small gust of cold wind swept by, however, she noticed something about his attire.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, motioning towards his complete lack of winter clothing.

"Changes in weather seldom affect me, dearie," he grinned. The grin that was supposed to chase everyone away, but she was starting to see it for what it was, a defense.

"Alright, if you say so."

Their conversation dissolved into the quiet of winter, and when she left to see more of the grounds she expected not to see him again until supper, or for him even to follow her and provide more teasing remarks about her upbringing. But as it happened he did neither, and when she came back to see her snow angel one last time she saw him exactly where she'd left him, facing the angel with arms knitted behind his back, his gaze lost in some far off place, and his face…

His face was sad, she realized with a start. Never had she seen him look so sad.

Well, that just wouldn't do.

Her aim was precise, the white projectile hitting its target dead center and dripping down inside the high collar he always sported. In a flash he spun, trying to locate his attacker, and she almost died of laughter from the outraged look on his face.

"You little minx!" he cried, his hands already moving to make a snowball in retaliation. But he was new to this game, and she beaned him with yet another snowball before he could finish his.

Apparently, while under attack he had completely forgotten he wielded massive magical powers, because no sooner had her second assault been completed but he was tearing through the snow after her, a wild grin on his face.

"Prepare yourself, dearie!" he cackled, and she nearly squealed as she turned heel and ran for all her worth, skirts flying as she kicked up snow.

It was an inevitability that he would catch her, the snow was thick and he definitely had the advantage with legs unhindered by a dress and cloak. But that didn't mean she would go down without a fight!

She zigged and zagged, trying every trick she knew to lose him, throwing snowballs when she could buy enough time to collect some snow, but soon enough she felt two strong arms wrap themselves around her waist.

"Gotcha!"

Gasping for breath she only nodded, a grin plastered to her face all the same.

"But now, the question is, what shall the punishment be for such a crime?" he asked, voice high pitched and gleeful.

"Oh, I have a idea," she smiled sweetly; moving swiftly so the last snowball left in her arsenal went straight into his grinning mouth.

She expected to be released instantly, and he obliged, but only to see his magic finally return the favor, a massive snowball suddenly hovering inches above her head and crashing down.

Stunned, trying to free the snow from her hair and cloak, sputtering all the while, she heard that mad giggle of his and had to laugh herself.

"Why are you laughing, dearie? You won the battle but lost the war!"

Brushing the last bit of snow that she could reach, she simply smiled at his confident expression, walking over before she could think twice to sweep some remaining snow from his hair.

Her actions stilled him, his face neutral but his large eyes analyzing, watching.

"Oh, but I did win. I got you to smile."

And then she was gone, properly chilled and thrilled by her time outside and ready for a cup of tea. His eyes followed her into the castle before moving back to the site of her first winter activity.

A snow angel, indeed.


End file.
